


Take a Deep Breath and Breathe Into me

by Daiya_Darko



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, SPOILERS FOR INTO DARKNESS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daiya_Darko/pseuds/Daiya_Darko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim comes to McCoy overwhelmed, which is progress considering the last time something catastrophic happened, Jim didn't come to anyone at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take a Deep Breath and Breathe Into me

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR Star Trek Into Darkness spoilers. Like, super major. Like, wow you will hate me if you read this and haven't seen the movie yet. But after having seen the movie, I couldn't stop thinking about how much Jim was probably stressed out and Bones would totally be a great friend.

When Jim arrives at McCoy’s door at 2300 hours on a Friday, McCoy knows something is wrong. Just from looking at the forced smile under the still healing bruises and cuts, he knows that Jim is on the verge of a total breakdown. There’s an unhealthy tenseness in his shoulders, a shifty, unfocused look in those electric blue eyes that almost makes McCoy’s heart break.

“Come in.”

“Thanks.”

Jim makes himself comfortable in McCoy’s small, standard issue apartment, collapsing on the sofa and pulling off his boots. McCoy isn’t sure how he’s going to broach the subject, but he hopes Jim brings it up himself. The man was never one for being coddled or patronized, and it looks like the last thing he needs is any of that.

“So…Friday night and you find yourself here? I’m sorry to say that there aren’t a multitude of women looking to sleep with the Starfleet savior here.”

Jim looks up and almost seems to wilt. “I know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t do this, Bones. It was one thing after the Narada, but this – ” Jim folds in on himself, burying his face in his hands as he tries to choke back sobs.

McCoy is paralyzed in anguish at watching his best friend suffer.

“What exactly is bothering you, Jim?” McCoy asks softly, finally bringing himself to sit alongside his friend and wrap a supportive arm around him.

“It’s everything. All those people died, and it was _my_ fault.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“I made the call to destroy his ship! It fell and it destroyed everything!”

“No one could have known – “

“But I could have! Hell, I _should_ have! And then I died.” Jim looks up at Bones helplessly through watery eyes. “I actually died. I died, Bones, don’t you understand? And now a piece of that asshole is always going to be with me!”

McCoy doesn’t say anything. He’s still reeling from the shock of seeing Jim in a body bag, lifeless and waxy. He’s still dealing with it himself, watching Jim’s vitals suddenly kick back online as if he had only temporarily disconnected from the monitors.

He couldn’t say anything then, and he still can’t say anything now.

“I wanted to be captain so bad, just to prove to Pike that I could, and now he’s dead,” Jim says, shaking his head. “What’s the point? I can barely take care of myself, never mind an entire crew of people. They’ve nearly died multiple times because of my decisions. I’m a terrible captain.”

McCoy sits back and forces Jim to look at him. “Hey. What do you see when you look in the mirror?”

Jim looks slightly puzzled, but gives the question some thought. “I see a worthless idiot.”

McCoy shakes his head, and standing, pulls Jim up with him. He leads Jim to the bathroom, and gently nudges him inside, positioning himself right behind Jim as the lights come on.

“Do you know what I see?” McCoy asks quietly.

Jim shakes his head.

“I see a man who from the very moment of his birth has faced death head on and always come out the victor. I see a scruffy, dumb bar slug who managed to clean himself up and get on that shuttlecraft to Starfleet only to then become captain of the Enterprise in three years. I see a man who when faced with countless obstacles, continues to effortlessly overcome. I see a man who has been forced to make some choices, good and bad, and has learned from them to become a better captain and person all around. Now does that guy sound like a worthless idiot to you?”

Jim’s lip quivers before he hunches over in tears. McCoy holds him, an arm around Jim’s waist with the other hand scratching his head soothingly. Jim clutches onto McCoy’s hand on his hip.

“Yeah, go ahead and let it all out,” McCoy murmurs into Jim’s shoulder. “You don’t have to hold it in, Jim. You don’t have to be strong in front of your friends, in front of me.”

Jim wipes his face lazily with the sleeve of his shirt and leans into McCoy’s touch. Sniffing, he says, “I’m sorry I came here and dumped all this on you.”

“Dammit Jim, I’m your friend. I’d be a downright ass to turn you away even if I wasn’t.”

Jim chuckles at this, and lets his shoulders relax as McCoy’s fingers continue working his scalp. “You give good speeches when no one’s watching.”

“I seldom ever have to give speeches, only orders and reprimands.”

They’re silent then, McCoy gently working the tension out of Jim with his fingers until Jim inhales sharply and starts to pull away.

“Ah, damn Bones. That feels way too good,” Jim mumbles uncomfortably, looking around everywhere except at his reflection and certainly not at his pants.

McCoy lets go, confused for a moment, before he realizes and grabs Jim’s wrist. “That’s okay. Maybe what you need right now is to just feel good and not think about anything.”

Jim turns a little, searching McCoy’s face for an answer. “But I – “

“But nothing. Let me just give you this, okay?” Bones murmurs quietly, silencing Jim’s further questions with a kiss. Jim exhales through his nose with relief at the sensation, because while kissing people is always fun and great for stress relief, right now, it’s far too intimate to share with strangers.

But McCoy’s not a stranger; McCoy is _Bones_ , his Chief Medical Officer and best friend. Bones has been through just as much as him, jumped over the same hurdles, and without much question, entrusted his life to Jim every single time it was necessary. Jim trusts McCoy, because McCoy trusts Jim.

McCoy can feel Jim slowly falling apart in his hands as they travel up his sides, sliding over the skin under Jim’s shirt to his back and gently rubbing out the muscle tension in his lumbar. He wants Jim to let go, to just fall apart so that he can put him back together again better and renewed, but there’s still a sense of resistance there. McCoy breaks the kiss, kisses Jim’s chin, and asks, “What do you need right now?”

Jim blinks quickly, at loss for an answer. “I don’t know. I just need to not think about things right now.”

“Okay,” McCoy nods, “I can help you. Go lie down on my bed and take your shirt off.” When Jim hesitates to move, McCoy asks, “You do trust me right?”

Jim squeezes his hand. “With my life.”

“Good. Now go on and do what I said,” McCoy orders with a little bit of lieutenant commander in his voice. He notices the way Jim reacts subtly at the tone, how his eyes almost seem to brighten with relief, and makes a mental note that he files away for later.

McCoy searches his kitchen for olive oil and briefly considers grabbing some lube as well. He decides against it, choosing to keep thing simple for now since this is new to both of them. _The goal is to relieve his stress, not yours,_ McCoy reminds himself, and returns to his bedroom. Jim is sitting on the edge, hands clasped between his legs and watching McCoy with earnest surprise.

“Lie on your stomach,” McCoy orders, and smiles when Jim complies.

McCoy watches in appreciation at the way Jim’s muscles stretch and contract, still tense, however. He decides he’s going to do his best to rub the worry out of Jim if it’s the last thing he does.

Climbing up on the bed over top of Jim, McCoy traces Jim’s muscles curiously, trying to locate the worst of the muscle tension. He smirks at how Jim responds to the touch, muscles jumping underneath his fingers, and finally applies pressure at the base of Jim’s neck, pushing on his atlas bone until it pops. Jim lets out a breathy sigh, and McCoy feels him begin to relax. He unscrews the oil and pours a little across Jim’s shoulders to rub it in. He’s careful about how much force he puts behind his hands, because there are is still some internal damage, a dislocated shoulder Jim never let heal properly. McCoy works around this effortlessly, and rubs the oil in across the pale, freckled skin he’s so familiar with. Jim lets out a contented hum and shifts restlessly beneath the weight of McCoy.

“Be still,” McCoy growls softly in Jim’s ear, and Jim freezes. McCoy continues to massage Jim’s neck and shoulders as he says, “You keep trying to do everything, and I keep telling you that’s not your responsibility. Right now, I’m in charge of making sure you’re alright. Is that understood?”

Jim whimpers as McCoy tightens his grip around the back of his throat, but manages a quiet, “Yes sir.”

McCoy releases his grip and presses a gentle kiss to the skin behind Jim’s ear. He could stay like this forever, Jim quiet and pliable beneath him, trusting McCoy to protect him and make everything better, but a part of him knows that’s not how they’re supposed to be.

After all, you can’t have a rainbow without a thunderstorm.

McCoy sits up and pours oil down Jim’s back, rubbing it in slowly and with precise direction to work out the kinks along his spine. “Take a deep breath, Jim,” McCoy orders, sitting up on his knees so that Jim can breathe deeper. When he feels Jim stop inhaling, he says, “Breathe out.” Jim does as told, and as he does, McCoy pushes with the base of his hand up Jim’s spine, hearing a satisfying crack and pop as the vertebrae realign. Jim moans quietly, but remains still, and McCoy feels he’s done his job. He gets off of Jim and gently guides him onto his back so that Jim is facing the ceiling, eyes wide and face completely relaxed.

“Feel better?” McCoy asks, laughing when Jim can only muster a response with a breathless, “Yeah, that was pretty satisfactory.”

“Is there anything else you need?”

Jim focuses in on McCoy’s eyes, and McCoy sees them suddenly grow slightly concerned as color flushes his face. “Uh, I can probably handle it myself if you get my drift.”

McCoy positions himself above Jim, pinning him with his gaze, and he knows things aren’t over yet.

“I can do it…if you’ll let me,” McCoy states simply, and when Jim nods eagerly, he says, “Take off your pants.”

Jim shimmies out of the rest of his clothing and lets McCoy guide him up to the pillows to rest his head more comfortably. Finally exposed and bared before him McCoy can truly appreciate Jim’s form. Every single scar he knows intimately from drunken nights swapping stories, every scar Jim wouldn’t let him run a regenerator over, every scar Jim willingly put there himself, is there and McCoy can’t helping kiss every single one lingering over the one on his abdomen that Jim said he got in a bar fight after his mother died. Although he never stated it directly, McCoy understood Jim wanted to get stabbed, wanted to validate the pain he felt at the loss of another parent. McCoy kisses it twice, because he doesn’t want Jim to do that again for Pike.

McCoy brings himself to Jim’s lips and busies himself there to stop himself from asking all the questions that have been running through his head. He doesn’t need to know what it feels like to die; he knows, and he knows what it’s like to take a life. He just wants to ask Jim if he’ll be able to sleep alright again after this, or will it be like before where Jim would stay up and drink until he passed out because, “I don’t dream when I pass out.” Would he be more open about seeking solace in others, or keep bottling it up until it exploded? Would he internalize all his guilt every night until he couldn’t function in the day?

McCoy kisses Jim harder, as if trying to assuage all the pain Jim is experiencing with his tongue. He kisses Jim like he’s the only thing keeping him alive, and so far, Jim is. Jim has saved him either directly or indirectly more than once, and in some way, on a more emotional level.

McCoy may have a hard time connecting with people, but he still can thanks to Jim.

He finally brings his hand to Jim’s erection, stroking it slowly and carefully, gauging Jim’s reaction based on the noises that slip from Jim’s mouth to his. McCoy tightens his grip around Jim’s cock and slides his arm under Jim’s neck to hold him tight and in place. As he strokes, Jim’s moans become more desperate and needy as he clutches to McCoy for something to hold on to. His hips thrust against McCoy’s motions, and McCoy stills him with a sharp bite of his lip.

“What did I tell you?” He admonishes. “Let me do it.”

Jim gasps at the sharp twist of McCoy’s hand and nods wordlessly. His hips still, but now his nails dig into McCoy’s skin, leaving red crescents in their wake as they drag across his arms and shoulders. McCoy hisses, but he likes it. He wants to feel this pain, wants to share Jim's pain so that Jim doesn't have to feel it alone. McCoy feels his pants tighten even more uncomfortably, but he focuses on Jim, because that’s who needs this most right now. He needs to show Jim it’s okay to fall apart, and he needs to be the one that Jim does it in front of. In his hands, Jim is more than another patient, and this is more than delicate surgery – Jim is the live torpedo ready to explode unless McCoy can cut the wire just –

– Right. Jim comes with a sharp, choked groan, and McCoy coaxes him through the orgasm, whispering in his ear how good Jim followed orders and performed. McCoy releases his softening cock to wipe his hand on the bed, then kisses Jim again for good measure. Jim’s entire body is limp, covered in a sheen of sweat as Jim’s eyes flutter, coming out of the post-orgasm haze. He catches McCoy’s eye and smiles.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Let me,” Jim reaches for McCoy’s crotch, but his hands are batted away.

“If you really want to return the favor, just lie there and relax. That’s what this is all about,” McCoy explains, even as he undoes his pants and fishes out his cock. He lazily jerks himself off as he looks over Jim’s completely sated body, prone and open, completely trusting of McCoy’s gaze and touch. McCoy bites back a groan and leans in for another kiss from Jim, hungrily taking from him as he works his dick harder in his hand. He pulls Jim closer, turning his head with the nudge of his nose, and latches onto Jim’s neck to suck a tender spot onto Jim’s neck. Jim gasps, moaning quietly, and McCoy bites sharply as his orgasm pulls through him, semen landing on Jim’s thigh, marking him in addition to the bruise on Jim’s neck.

McCoy sighs and kisses the spot before leading a trail of kisses up Jim’s neck and back to his lips. Jim doesn’t resist when McCoy pulls him under the covers, lets McCoy push and pull him at his will. All the tension and hesitation having dissipated, McCoy is left with a Jim who he knows won’t suffer in silence for months now, which is good considering they’ll have to leave soon for five years.

As they settle down for sleep, McCoy takes solace in knowing Jim won’t feel so alone and helpless the entire time.


End file.
